


Our ink-laced roots

by elzierav



Series: Elz's Xmas 2020 gift fics [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Gift Fic, Grief/Mourning, M/M, soft men in love, the most poetic and unexplicit smut I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28302765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzierav/pseuds/elzierav
Summary: “How does it feel?”“Painful,” Tai groans out as needles meticulously map the skin of his calf, covering the scars with splashes of watercolour shades atop strong black lines. The blonde has likened those to a support on which flowers and fruit can grow, which elicited but a gruff chuckle from Qrow.“Even when it’s not your first tattoo, and you think you should have gotten used to it by now, it never really stops hurting, does it?”“Nope.”The pain never really goes away, no matter how many times you’ve been tattooed, no matters how many tattoos you’ve had removed. Things never really get easier in life. Things never really get better. There are some scars even time cannot erase. There are days that hurt, like there were days that hurt, and there will be more painful days to come because it never truly gets better. But Tai is strong, Tai has always been strong, and it will be okay.In which Taiyang Xiao Long, like an idiot, meets the twins and immediately proceeds to get Raven's name tattooed into his back, and heartbreaks and other hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Taiyang Xiao Long
Series: Elz's Xmas 2020 gift fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088366
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Our ink-laced roots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ospreyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ospreyx/gifts).



> Merry xmas to the amazing, wonderful Sorkari! Hope you like :)

The first time they meet, Taiyang’s eyes are clouded blue like the rising storm on a hot summer day. His hair is not straight - but it is not curly either. It is unruly like the turbulent sea caressed by golden sunlight. Taiyang, however, is probably straight. Most probably, with Qrow’s luck. 

The pungent scent of alcohol floats over them when the blonde and his group of friends first enter the parlour. There is a nervous giggle in the atmosphere, like a shared secret among the gang of students, because apparently one of their parents gave them cash, trusting they won’t use it to get tattoos. Guess what they’re using it for? Right, even with Qrow’s luck, he’s sure he could guess. 

Raven is manning - or in her own words, womanning - the counter when the clique comes in. She scowls slightly at the smell as she shows them the catalogue of tattoo designs. Qrow sits at the back, designing more patterns in his notebook. Back there, it smells like pencil lead and markers and ink. There is geometry, black lines as straight as the horizon bleeding into gentle curves and splashes of haphazard colour. The twins are both too young to tattoo or get tattoos, but sometimes they practise on a piece of plastic hanging around the shop. Other times, they just help their adoptive parents with whatever they can help with.

Qrow wonders what design the blonde boy will choose. There is so much one can learn about a person, just from the design they choose to etch onto their skin forever. Qrow’s fingers spin a pencil around, nervously staring as blue eyes glance over the patterns the male twin has drawn himself. 

There is a whole group of youths looking over the tattoo catalogue, but somehow Qrow only notices the boy with blue eyes… Perhaps because there is something confidently carefree about he’s flipping through the pages, in search of a pattern that will mark his body for the rest of his life. Perhaps because he stares at Raven, stumbling in her direction a little too insistently as he describes the pattern he’s after. Perhaps because, eventually, he doesn’t choose a design from the book, instead asking for her name and demanding that it be inked into the bottom of his shoulder blade. 

He leans in close to her, and she can smell the stench of alcohol in his breath. The twins are too young to be drunk, so they wonder how it tastes, how the burn of alcohol on blonde’s slightly chapped lips must taste. They wonder how it feels, for your eyes to be full of clouds that keep in the sunlight, the warm, blinding sunlight. 

They’ve never been tattooed either, so they wonder how that feels, after Qrow sketches a quick, vaguely bird-inspired pattern and hands it over to Tai, as the boy insists to be called. All the same, it hurts like a thousand ink-laced needles sinking into Qrow’s skin when Raven finally gives in to the blonde’s ever-grinning advances, begrudgingly accepting that enduring pain to have her name engraved into his skin is actually kind of badass. 

It hurts like a thousand ink-laced needles when she scribbles her number into the corner of her sibling’s drawing and hands it to the blonde, both of them entirely ignoring her wide-eyed brother. 

It hurts like a thousand ink-laced needles when she accepts a date with Tai. A date, turning into a second one, and a third one, as surely as dusk drifts into night, and night precedes day. 

It hurts when they get together, it hurts when a couple of years pass, it hurts when they break apart, as surely as morning follows night. It hurts when they’re both too absorbed in their heartbreak to remember about Qrow, except when Raven needs a hand moving her things out of Tai’s apartment, or when Tai finally registers he now has an embarrassing tattoo to remove. 

Somehow, sometimes along the way, Qrow figures out how it feels to drink until your eyes are full of clouds. 

* * *

“You’re sure you want it erased?” Qrow asks, quirking a brow at the blonde. “It’ll hurt a lot, and I can’t guarantee it won’t leave a trace...”

Not to mention it’ll take a while. Multiple sessions even, but Qrow doesn’t mention that. Maybe because it’s late and he’s barely sober enough to remember all the disclaimers. Maybe because he doesn’t view many sessions with Taiyang as that much of a downside. 

“You don’t expect me to keep it, do you?”

Qrow has his own parlour now, so does Raven, but of course Tai wouldn’t go to her. 

“Nope, but I could cover it up with something else...”

“I don’t wanna make another bad decision choosing a bigger design to cover this one up. And I’m sure I’m strong enough to shoulder the pain.”

As he speaks, the blonde unbuttons his short-sleeved shirt to reveal a brawny, bronzed shoulder blade engraved with black birds and blacker letters, confidently enough to smirk at his own pun as he undresses in front of the counter. 

“Fine. Then let’s get to it. Better make yourself comfortable, because this is gonna take a while.”

* * *

The back of the shop smells like ink, disinfectant, and cigarettes. There is an assortment of empty liquor bottles here and there, some better hidden than others. The leather chair is quite worn out, but comfortable, perhaps how worn out it feels adds to the simple comfort. 

Qrow’s sleeves are rolled up while he works, showcasing the elaborate inking that maps out pale skin. Patterns emerging out of nothing, from calloused alabaster hands to messily scrunched up shirt sleeves. Savage, animalistic angles interwoven with airy, artful arabesques, memories of past and future dreams dissolving into abstract beauty. Tai wishes he could watch that moving, living canvas more… maybe next time he should get a tattoo more toward the front of his body.

But right now, he just has to clench his teeth and face the overwhelming pain as the laser burns down into his skin, destroying the ink within him. Tai’s fists clench tightly as the device blows dark pigments into smithereens at his shoulder, rapid pulse after rapid pulse. He tries to focus on the details, the crescent shaped sensation of his own nails marking his palms, the warm, meticulous touch of Qrow’s hands against his skin, an empty, almost soothing promise before the laser pulsates into him, again and again. 

Some sessions, there is awkward banter - one-sided for the most part, due to Tai too busy biting his own teeth to answer. Tai tries to joke that this is how pure regret feels like, this is how much pure regret hurts, but he isn’t sure Qrow understands much of those muffled groans. The tattoo artist mutters something about just how popular tattoo removal has gotten these days, while Taiyang just bites down harder and feels how it feels to get his regrets, his dreams, his memories, his first love burnt out of his body like so many ashes gone in the wind, until all that’s left is a faded scar. 

A faded scar and sepia memories, just as so many ashes and feathers carried away by the wind. 

* * *

“My sister called yesterday night,” Qrow sighs, his cigarette resting at the edge of his lips like at the edge of a cascade about to spill over, except that the smoke falls upward, always upward, joining the artfully arranged cloud overhead. 

“Raven?” Tai says, arms crossed across his chest. 

Qrow is taking a break. They are both taking a break in the small alley at the back of the shop. They lean against a brick wall, they face a brick wall, they are surrounded by brick walls that reach much higher than their heads, leaving but a small rectangle of blue sky above them. It’s like a painting, too perfect, too out of reach.

“Yup. Apparently, you and Rae are friends again. You’re not mad at each other?”

Tai takes a swig of his beer, wiping the corner of his mouth before answering.

“Nah. We just figured out we just weren’t meant to be a couple. Sometimes, talking to her as my fiancée just felt like talking to a wall.”

“Damn right. But now you want to keep a wall as a friend?”

“Why not? Walls aren’t all bad. Sometimes they can be wall-derful.”

Resting his weight against the wall, Qrow stares upward at a passing flock of birds sprinkled across the clouds, Tai’s gaze following intently.

“Pffff, let’s head back inside. I prefer when you’re hurting too much to make terrible puns.”

“Admit it, they’re so bad they’re good.”

“... Right. Back to work.”

* * *

There is this raw, barely bridled passion guiding Qrow’s hands in his work, channeled into carefully crafted beauty. It’s like all of his anger, all of his frustration at how unfair life, the world, the cosmos and the strings of fate are concentrated into the burning heat of the laser, surgically precise as it sears through Tai’s skin. His calloused digits are gentle and protective everywhere else, soothing in the slow silence. 

Even Tai doesn’t mind the quiet. There is something companionable about the quiet, when he’s with Qrow. It isn’t like the calm between the tempests. It’s like the fresh scent of earth in the air after the rain, where the colours are saturated anew and the world looks different. 

But it’s not raining water, it’s raining fire, fire down Taiyang’s skin, each pulse sending flames down each of his nerves, into each of his pores as it blazes the memories away, sculpting a forgetfulness as vulnerable as it is violent.

They don’t know exactly how long they remain like this, only that it’s way after closing time when they’re done and Qrow finally bandages the cleared, healing skin. It’s far from healed just yet, but it isn’t too late to start healing, it’s never too late to start healing. Qrow’s careful fingertips elicit tingles where they trail, leaving behind but a memory that keeps haunting the skin with the reminder that Tai is not alone, that he does not have to heal alone. No one should ever have to heal alone. 

“That’s it?” Tai shrugs, his skin tingling in every kind of way.

There is a lingering burn that does not go away, that perhaps never truly goes away, and Tai can never truly believe it’s over, it’s all over now.

“Why, haven’t suffered enough yet, tough guy?”

“I’m gonna miss this, you know...”

“Why? You like getting hurt that much? Is that why you were into my sister?”

“Nah...”

It’s because when it hurts, Tai remembers her. It’s because when Tai can’t see Qrow and can only feel his long, deft fingers mapping his back, and the burn, the pain that makes him feel alive, the pain that makes him feel whole, he remembers her. He remembers all she is and all she could never be, all they were together and what they could never be, like mirror shards that somehow matched, that somehow must match, weren’t it for the rough, sharp edges. 

But Tai can’t exactly say that.

“Hey, it’s okay...” Qrow mutters suddenly. “Sometimes I miss her too. I mean, I miss the version of her I thought I knew, the glimpses of her that don’t have to hurt so much, that never had to run away like that...”

Taiyang didn’t realise, but the tears are rolling down the corner of his eyes. Maybe from the pain, maybe from… but it’s okay, because he doesn’t have to hide. It’s okay, because he doesn’t have to be alone. It’s okay, because Qrow is here, Qrow is here to wipe the tears away, his fingers moving with infinite tenderness upon tear-streaked skin. His hands are usually deft and precise when he works, but now there is a sloppy pause, now there is a hesitation as humid digits hover near the corner of the blonde’s mouth, as if asking a silent question. 

Qrow does not remember what the answer is. 

In fact, Qrow hardly even remembers what the question is. 

Qrow has next to no idea how they end up like this, drawn together by the emptiness in them, by the void she left that craves to be filled. Qrow has next to no ideas why their lips are meeting, again and again, why their broken pieces are colliding perpetually among the vastness of the void, among the vastness of space as if they could be broken enough for their pieces to slot together perfectly. But they do not fit together, cannot fit together, can never fit together no matter how many times they collide, no matter how many times they get hurt in the process. 

Tai tastes of beer and sunsets and sunflowers. His lips are warm and his breath is burning when his mouth maps down the arch of Qrow’s neck. His hands are strong when they slip beneath the band of Qrow’s pants, and the tattoo artist’s heart sinks with regret - what was he expecting? For Tai to kiss him out of romantic love? Because all it takes to fall in love is a few sessions of tattoo removal and a good amount of pain? Rather than because Tai is drunk, Tai is horny, and Qrow’s body is there for the taking, and with the scent of alcohol and smoke and ink saturating their skins, Qrow smells almost like her?

Exhaling a shaky breath, Qrow lets his eyelids slide closed at the onslaught of more insistent kisses, letting his body be guided onto Tai’s lap on the chair. If he keeps his eyes closed, he can pretend that’s all he ever wanted, Tai’s lips on his, Tai’s body on his, amidst a field of colour and sunflowers. He knows that if Tai keeps his eyes closed, he can pretend Raven is back, Raven is that perfect version of herself he always wanted her to be, fully offering herself to him in her inked glory. If they both keep their eyes closed, it will be okay, everything will be okay…

There is a soft thud of distant thunder as discarded garments fall to the floor. There is a warmth when burning hands map Qrow’s behind, molding him to the ethereal ideal Tai has always wanted, the ideal he could never be, the ideal even she could never be. There is a warmth when chafing blonde stubble worship pale, sensitive skin, when demanding lips leave marks like flowers of redness among a forest of intricately inked patterns. There is a warmth - then suddenly there is coldness as wet, slick fingers work Qrow open, as trembling lips pronounce a slurred question, and the tattoo artist can muster nothing more than a silent nod. 

It should fit perfectly, the void within Qrow being filled with warmth again, with Tai’s length pushing against the tightness of his walls. It should fit perfectly, because that’s what Qrow wanted, craved, needed, dreamed of ever since he saw that dreamy sunlight through those dreamy, cloudy eyes. It should fit perfectly, and yet each thrust is pain, each thrust is pleasure, each thrust is a cosmic collision that will leave broken pieces, and still, the pieces do not fit. Each collision leaves debris, shooting stars that streak the darkness before Qrow’s eyelids as they fall, as they crash, as they burn.

There is an incandescence as each second passes, as the passage of time unravels at the rhythm of Tai’s desperate pace. Soon, Qrow is plucked off Tai’s lips and pinned to the wall, a strong hand gripping his narrow forearm with insistence, and he forgets what gravity is, what gravity ever was other than the lustful passion that draws them together, the blonde’s manhood slamming into his prostate again and again. Everything burns, everything feels like regret, and if this doesn’t feel like regret, they don’t know what does. They will regret this, they will pretend to forget this, they will pretend this never happened when Tai walks away, they both know. But as long as this lasts, Qrow wants to savour each sloppy, searing kiss, to be marked and haunted by each touch, to wear the echo of each memory like a drop of ink dappling his skin. 

There is a last kiss, a mere press of lips, almost gentle despite the relentless regret it conveys. And then not just shooting stars, but whole suns come crashing, burning away everything within Qrow’s field of vision, burning away the world and the sunflowers in his dreams. He is only faintly aware of Tai’s seed spilling within him, filling the darkness inside of him, but nothing fits, nothing feels quite right. 

Then there are thanks muttered like apologies, nervously punctuating the silence as they get dressed again, and then Tai’s gone, leaving nothing but memories and the faintest trace of ink-shaded bruises along Qrow’s wrist. 

* * *

Years pass before they see each other again. 

When he almost recognises a face through the glass front of the parlour, Qrow does wonder if he just saw a ghost.

Tai has changed. 

It’s not just the scars. Tai has changed. 

His hair is different, matching his new little goatee. The golden locks, more curly than wavy now, almost bouncy in the gentle sunlight. The fashionable red sash around his arm has never looked brighter, and his cargo shorts have never looked more fatherly. They show the scars from the accident, but that’s not all that has changed. A delicate web of wrinkles creases the corner of his eyes and mouth, the kind of folds that indicate a lifetime of salty tears and grateful smiles both. His eyes are red-rimmed, but most noticeable is the blue of his eyes, clear and cloudless as the azure sky on a perfect sunny day. 

There is a mention of the accident, since the scars are part of why Tai walked into Qrow’s store in the first place. There is a heaviness upon the blonde’s shoulders, like the weight of carrying toddlers may have taken its toll while making his musculature as shapely as ever. His skin is tan as earth, his hair smell of roses, lavender, and thyme. 

Apparently, following the accident, she left him with the cute flower shop they bought not too far from Qrow’s tattoo parlour, as well as two daughters, young and healthy and unscathed. 

Apparently, she did not make it. 

Apparently, life by her side used to feel like an eternal summer.

Quietly, Qrow leafs through the catalogue, showing Tai the newest designs that blossomed between the pages throughout the years. He wonders what design the blonde will choose. There is so much one can learn about a person, just from the design they choose to etch onto their skin forever. 

But as always, Taiyang barely stares at the catalogue, instead opting for a pattern of his own. Quietly, Qrow ushers him to the back. In there, it smells like pencil lead and markers and ink. Qrow’s eyes widen when the blonde shows him a photo, holding his breath in hope that it’s not a blurry, corny family selfie that won’t look good as ink on skin. 

Instead, it’s a picture of assorted flowers from his store. There’s white and red roses, yellow sunflowers, chrysanthemum, yellow irises bleeding into veins of violet, and others the tattoo artist does not even recognise. There are clashing colours and sharp shapes, but somehow they convey a cluttered clarity before the sun rises, a silent semi-obscurity that only makes dew drops brighter in their ephemeral iridescence.

So Qrow’s hands start working, his pencil frantically tracing patterns across the worn pages of his notebook. There is geometry, black lines as entangled as trees’ roots blooming spiralling out into elegant fractals like the tip of a fern’s leaf, like the heart of a sunflower amidst splashes of vibrant colour. 

Qrow’s fingers spin his pencil around, nervously pausing staring as blue eyes slowly trace the line of his veins up his wrist and forearm, toward a tattooed spot only exposed since he rolled up his sleeve to draw more comfortably. Amidst the inked lines as entangled as a nest of vines lies a curled up dragon Taiyang is sure he has never seen before. Last time he had seen that patch of pale skin, it had been marred by the bruises, by the regret, by the memory of his own grip, of his own forceful fingers…

Tai doesn’t know what to say, so he mutters an apology that sounds almost like a thanks for the memories we made together. 

“Nah, it’s fine,” Qrow echoes. “I’ll think about it, and send you some sketches when I’ve made progress on them.”

* * *

“You brought me flowers?” the tattoo artist raises a surprised ashen brow. 

“From The Xiao Long Rose Garden Patch!” Tai beams. “I hoped seeing them in real life would help you with inspiration.”

“Uh… thanks, pal.”

The colours are too garish to Qrow’s eyes, like the persistent sunlight that filters through his blinds in the early morning. But as soon as he brings the bouquet close to his face, the fragrance greets him like a loving embrace, and he has never felt as glad to hug his flowers tight. 

* * *

“How does it feel?”

“Painful,” Tai groans out as needles meticulously map the skin of his calf, covering the scars with splashes of watercolour shades atop strong black lines. The blonde has likened those to a support on which flowers and fruit can grow, which elicited but a gruff chuckle from Qrow. 

“Even when it’s not your first tattoo, and you think you should have gotten used to it by now, it never really stops hurting, does it?”

“Nope.”

The pain never really goes away, no matter how many times you’ve been tattooed, no matters how many tattoos you’ve had removed. Things never really get easier in life. Things never really get better. There are some scars even time cannot erase. There are days that hurt, like there were days that hurt, and there will be more painful days to come because it never truly gets better. But Tai is strong, Tai has always been strong, and it will be okay.

“How are you feeling?” Qrow prompts softly.

“Painful?”

“Nah, not about the needles… I meant… in general, you know...”

“I’m coping. It’s weird, going through it yourself, when you’ve had so many people coming to your shop in tears to buy flowers for a loved one’s funeral. Florists have to deal with a lot of grief among customers every day, so I was able to pick up some useful coping strategies along the way… just like tattoo artists get to deal with a lot of heartbreak from clients, I guess.”

“Yup. Though rest assured I only ever kiss the pretty ones.”

A shade of crimson dusts Tai’s cheeks, matching the smaller roses Qrow just etched into tan skin. 

“Wait… do you mean… ow!!!!!”

“There, pretty much done for today. Wanna have a look?”

Bright yellow, gentle pinks, swirling fuchsias only look more gorgeous when they coalesce within the cerulean reflection of Taiyang’s eyes.

“Whoa. It’s all I could have dreamed of… but somehow so much better? Does that make sense?”

“Nope. But do I hear that one a lot.”

Qrow allows himself a small, smug style before kicking the blonde out of his parlour before his lunch break.

* * *

“Flowers? Again?” Qrow rests a hand against his hip, leaning in the doorway and ready to close the shop for the evening. “Your tattoo’s done, so I hope inspiration’s not your excuse this time around.”

“Nope. I was gifting you a bouquet in hopes of taking you on a date.”

“A… what?”

“A date? Like the tree? And the fruit? C’mon, even my little girls know that one...”

“That rings a bell… but...”

“We could grab some food, you like Mistralian right? And then, if all goes well, go for a movie? I just hope that won’t be awkward or unprofessional for you or...”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, okay.”

Tai executes a happy dance, and Qrow can’t even find it childish for his thumping heart prances along giddily as if they’re school kids again. Noticing the endeared smile on the other’s lips, the florist grabs him by the arm - and manages to make him slip on the wet pavement like a clumsy albatross out of his parlour and his inky element. Instinctively, pallid, ink-stained hands latch onto tawny, muscular arms, and it only takes an inch for Taiyang to lean over and press his lips to Qrow’s. 

An inch that feels like the vastness of the universe, but Tai is strong, brave, and fearless as he closes the distance.

The kiss is chaste, tentative, nothing like the previous times they touched. There is a softness at the point of contact, of shared breath, of shared laughter, shared everything when Qrow earnestly kisses back. There is an infinity that awaits for them as they take their time tasting each other as if for the first time amidst the heady scent of fresh flowers. 

There is a certainty when their foreheads remain pressed together long after their mouths have parted. There is a certainty as they stand basking in all their brokenness and all their perfection, too shattered, yet too unbroken in their own ways for their cracks to match. There is a certainty that may not be real, but is always warm as gentle sunlight, telling them it’s okay to be broken, it’s okay to be unbroken, it’s okay to be unbreakable, and everything is going to be okay.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” Tai mumbles, ”maybe I should’ve waited until...”

“Tai, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

“Then I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

A sincere smile in azure eyes, and to Qrow it means the world and the immense sky and then some.

“Nah, it’s all I could have dreamed of… but somehow so much better? Am I making any sense?”

“Nope,” Tai echoes before kissing him again.


End file.
